


Lies Travel Faster: Part Two

by HazelNMae



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelNMae/pseuds/HazelNMae
Summary: A continuation of Lies Travel Faster.Sophia Murphy's past begins to catch up with her. Can she outrun it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the awesome readers, kudos givers, and commenters who have pushed me on to create Part Two. Here ya go babes--this one's for you!!

**** Sophie took the hill, putting her weight on the stirrups and directing Belle to sprint at full speed. In a matter of minutes, she found herself pulling back on the reins to stop just shy of the summit. 

She dismounted to take in the view. 

As much as she'd not wanted to leave him, she was glad she'd come home. 

The familiar ridges and valleys still resonated with her, leaving her heart heavy with nostalgia for her previous life. The land had changed dramatically since she’d last stood there, but it was achingly familiar--still very much a part of her soul.

The truth is, she'd  _ wanted _ to return to America. To find a piece of herself she’d lost. To regain something she felt had been taken from her. 

To seek revenge.

But she hadn't expected to want to  _ stay _ .

* * *

Even two years later, that morning still haunted her. She often found herself waking with a start at the sound of the gun. The nightmare always sent her straight up in bed, short of breath and sweating. She’d break into a full panic as she thought of what had come next.

Sophie got her shot off first, but her gun jammed. 

That was a fact which Tommy would never let her live down. 

“Take better care of your guns, Soph,” he’d lecture.

Tommy was shot in the stomach. Robert hadn’t realized he’d stood up when Sophie came into the room--his eyes had been so trained on her that he actually pulled the trigger with looking to aim. 

The doctor told the family Tommy wouldn’t have survived had she not been there. 

That was a fact which Sophie planned to hold over his head forever.

As it were, she ran to his side, ignoring Robert--unafraid that he may shoot her as well. She’d grabbed napkins off the table, doilies on the arm rests of the chairs, anything she could find to stop the bleeding. 

Robert ran like the coward he was.

Sophie let him go, too worried about Tommy and the blood pooling beneath him on the floor. He was losing it rapidly--something she saw too often during the war. But that training is what sent her into overdrive, taking full authority of the situation and shutting him up when he tried to talk and holding him down when he tried to stand. 

Ada rushed to Sophie’s side, asking how she could help.

“Call an ambulance!” Sophie shouted through tears, holding the wound tightly. 

Aside from his initial panic, Tommy took it all in stride. It wasn’t, after all, the first time he’d been shot. Once he realized she wasn’t going to let him move, he turned his focus toward her. Since she’d refused to relinquish control, he instead tried to comfort her while he lay there in pain--wiping the tears from her eyes in an attempt to calm her. 

They’d gotten him to the hospital in time, but just barely. He’d lost a lot of blood and had fallen unconscious about halfway through the ambulance ride. And though he’d mumbled something to her as he blacked out, Sophie hadn’t understood him.

The surgery was a success. Robert’s shit shot had, luckily, missed all vital organs. 

Tommy slept for days. It was ironic, really, as he’d probably not slept as much in months.

No one had been surprised that Sophie sat by his bedside the entire time, barely eating or drinking a thing. The thought that he might not wake up was enough to drive her mad with worry. 

The first time she’d left his side was when his heart rate dropped unexpectedly. The doctors didn’t seem to panic, but Sophie knew what it could mean and began barking orders to the staff. 

The doctor, of course, ordered her out of the room.

John took her out to catch her breath, but she fought against him, scrambling to get back into the room.

“For the love of Christ, Sophie, you were in France,” he said, still trying to steady her. “Didn’t you see worse than this?”

Sophie just scoffed. 

“Of course I did,” she answered through her hands as they covered her face. “But none of them were Tommy.”

* * *

Just as she began to consider seeking him herself, Arthur caught up to Robert. Sophie didn't ask for the details, too pleased with the picture she’d conjured in her mind to let herself be disappointed if he were anything but positively brutal. 

But when her resentment didn’t subside, she came to realize that it wasn't just Robert she needed to reconcile. She had unfinished business in America. Business she’d been content to let die until she met the Shelby family. Business she never thought she’d need to return to. But watching Tommy come so close. Seeing how he considered his life after the war as “extra time.” It all made her realize he wasn’t afraid to die, because he would never regret what he  _ hadn’t _ done.

And so, Sophie made up her mind before he awoke. 

She visited him one last time, on what would be the morning he finally opened his eyes, but she was a few hours too early. She held his hand, wanting to tell him she'd be back. That she wasn't running away to rid herself of her love for him, but to strengthen it through self-discovery, but she wouldn’t have the chance. She had a ship to catch.

* * *

He only wrote her once. 

The moment she recognized his handwriting on the letter, she lost her breath. She ripped into the envelope quickly and pulled the letter from it, barely registering each word before moving to the next.

But when she realized the letter was of business, her heart sank to her stomach.

A simple salutation followed by a curt, “If you’d like to remain in the employ of the Shelby Company, we can arrange for your pay to be delivered from our New York office. Mr. Gray is running that branch and I’d suggest you reach out to him for details.”

He went on to explain the type of duties she might be able to perform from her rural location and closed the letter with a simple, “And, of course, I hope you are well. T. Shelby.”

T. Shelby.

T.

_ Fuck _ .

She knew in that moment she’d lost him. 

And  _ that’s _ when she'd decided to stay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Above warnings apply, but I'll add that there are mentions of rape/non-con in this chapter.

Tommy turned the invitation over in his hand, taking note of the heavy stock of fine paper, the careful hand which had written his name on the front, the faint smell of perfume emanating from the envelope. His long forgotten cigarette dropped ashes on his coat as the smoke danced in front of his face.

It had been months since he’d seen her, although he heard updates about her frequently through the ever expanding circles he frequented in his new political career. She’d organized more than one rally in support of his rise in Westminster and had spoken his name to reporters and enthusiasts for the cause on multiple occasions. Some even went so far as to suggest a romantic relationship between them, but Tommy was quick to quash such rumors.

But he hadn’t seen or spoken to her in what felt like an eternity.

He’d thought about her often, though he was unsure what that meant. His thoughts of her were never romantic in nature, though he did remember the night they shared his bed. He didn’t regret it, necessarily, but wished it had been different.

He respected her and hadn’t wanted to use her as he did, but he was out of options.

In truth, he owed a lot to Jesse Eden. Her success garnered him success. Her ambition fueled his own. 

But that’s where it ended.

There was a moment, a _ brief _ moment in time, when he wondered if they were more. 

He’d seduced her, used her for his own political gain, and set her aside. 

But she continued to write to him. To speak of him. To push for his cause. And that made up his mind. It wasn’t genuine--on either side. 

But now. Well, now things were different. He had new enemies circling. New problems on the horizon. 

And Sophie was long gone.

He picked up the phone and dialed the operator.

“I need a line to Detroit, The Crowne Plaza.”

* * *

Sophie only recognized him as a small speck among the green and gold of the hay field. From her vantage point on the hill, she was too far away to determine if it really was him. He was working, that she could tell, but it was unclear what exactly he was doing.

She dug through her rucksack to find her binoculars and noticed her hands were shaking. Though she’d run through the scenario a thousand times in her mind, her heart still struggled with the reality of it. 

She moved Belle from the clearing to an adjacent clump of trees for cover, steadying herself against one of the trunks. 

After a few deep breaths, she felt her nerves calming and looked through the lenses to make a positive identification.

He was different, older, but she knew it was him nonetheless.

She’d worked so hard to put the memory out of her mind for so long, but it came crashing back as soon as she saw him.

Salvatore and Vincenzo had entered their home undetected. Her parents were out and Sophie had just settled into bed. Henry had been asleep for hours, as it was his turn to check on the furthest still first thing in the morning. 

The door to her room creaked open quietly, but slammed shut with a loud bang. She heard both noises and shot straight up in the bed. “Who’s there?” she asked, breathless.

The response came when Salvatore violently pushed her back onto the bed, holding his hand over her mouth to stifle her screams. 

They’d taken turns with her, laughing as they passed her back and forth. 

The memory of that night made her ill. The memory of what came after broke her heart.

The sound of their laughter. Their hot breath as they tried to whisper in her ear. The bruises she’d have for weeks after. The sound of Henry trying to beat down the door. The bile that rose in her throat when they fled out the window. The sob that broke from her as Henry finally made his way into her room. The ripped night gown she’d find on the floor the next morning. The black eye that would carry her shame for the weeks that followed. The sight of her father pacing the floor--more angry than she’d ever seen him. 

The revenge that her father sought after the fact.

His own death, and that of her mother, that followed.

She pushed it all down and dropped to the ground, loading her rifle and readying her sights on pure instinct. 

And with that, Sophie pulled the trigger as she released a deep breath, just as Henry taught her, to keep a steady hand. 

She flinched at the bang that followed, but opened her eyes just quick enough to see Salvatore Changretta’s body fall to the ground.

* * *

Michael woke from a hazy, cocaine fueled sleep to a ringing phone. He stumbled from the bed to find the phone on the desk. 

“Where is she?” Tommy demanded when he answered the phone.

“Who?” Michael asked, as he fumbled for his cigarettes.

Tommy let out a deep sigh. Though he couldn’t see him, Michael could picture Tommy rubbing his hand over his face and pinching his nose--as he always did when he was annoyed.

But Michael was annoyed, too. He knew Sophie was still on the company payroll, that she’d been tasked with keeping tabs on him, and he resented his cousin for it. The fact that he’d have the gall to call and ask after her, sent Michael reeling.

“How should I know, Tommy, this is a giant fucking country,” he said, no attempt to hide his agitation. 

He knew she wasn’t anywhere near Michael in proximity. She’d gone to America to go home. She hadn’t needed to say that for him to understand it. But he’d lost contact with the man he had watching her and Michael was his only other option.

“Just fucking find her,” he said before hanging up.

Michael held the phone to his ear for a few more seconds, unsure at first that Tommy had actually hung up on him. When he realized it, he slammed his own phone down in response. 

In truth, he hadn’t seen or heard from Sophie in months. He grew accustomed to her constant phone calls, unexpected visits, and all around nosy behavior, but he knew it wasn’t her choice. He knew Tommy had ordered it.

What he didn’t know was why, three months ago, it suddenly stopped. He’d been telling himself she was fine--just likely as fed up by the Shelby bullshit as he was. But now, knowing she’d had no contact with family across the pond, actually worried him. 

Sophie was fully capable of looking after herself, of that he was sure. But he also knew why she’d gone home. He knew she was seeking revenge.

And for once, Michael allowed himself to worry that it hadn’t all gone according to her plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Months earlier, Sophie had held her breath as the car made its way through traffic. Yelling from the streets, car horns, sirens carrying forward from somewhere behind them–all the sounds overwhelmed her after spending so much time in seclusion.

She was thankful when the driver finally came to a stop in front of the ornate building and couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. She thanked the young blinder who’d driven her, and made her way up the marble stairs and through the rotating brass door.

The city never ceased to amaze her. New York was bigger than she left it all those years ago. And though she hadn’t spent _much_ time there–just a few weeks as she was on her way in or out of the country–she remembered it very different from the New York she found when she came back.

Sophie did her best to avoid the city at all costs, opting at first to check in with Michael via phone so she could stay firmly planted in her one room rental further south. After a few months, though, she could sense that he was pulling away from her and decided it was time for a different tactic.

He was far more open when she began her biweekly visits in person.

“Tommy must be happy with the information you’re feeding him,” he said one day as they spoke casually in his office.

At first she bristled at the name, but Sophie quickly laughed to cover up her unease.

In truth, it was Arthur who tasked her with keeping an eye on Michael. His cousin had been charged with legitimate Shelby Company business and was shipped off to America and out of Tommy’s sights. As much as Tommy hadn’t wanted to deal with him, Arthur knew his cousin needed guidance. He was, after all, tasked with investing their capital responsibly.

And so he connected with Sophie shortly after Tommy’s letter arrived. Arthur promised to be in touch on a regular basis for updates, but she didn’t realize at the time that he’d so quickly become her only conduit to her previous life in Birmingham.

She walked confidently down the hallway, listening to the sound of her own heels on the expensive tile. She hadn’t had many occasions to dress so posh in her small and simple life in the mountains and relished the silk of her dress, the soft hug of her stockings, the curls of her hair bouncing as she walked.

Michael welcomed her into his office with a grunt after she peaked her head in the door. Sophie promptly slumped into the velvet covered chair across from his desk, but Michael waited to let her speak first.

Sophie cleared her throat to get his attention and he looked at her over the newspaper he was reading to finally meet her gaze.

“Good morning, Sophie,” he said, still reading.

Sophie just smiled at him.

“And how are you, today?” he asked.

“I just wish I didn’t have to come to this fucking city to see you,” she said lighting a cigarette and laying her head back on the chair.

“No one said you had to see me,” he responded, finally placing the newspaper down on his desk.

He was right. No one had insisted she _see_ him. She’d chosen that route on her own. But rather than admitting he was right, she let the comment go.

It’d been eighteen months since they came back to the states. Eighteen months and she’d gotten no closer to her goal. A year and a fucking half and no more satisfied with the trajectory of her life than when she ran away from Birmingham.

In the first year or so, Arthur kept Sophie apprised of happenings back in Birmingham, but she asked him to stop when he told her of Tommy and Jesse Eden.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Soph,” he said, trying to reassure her that Tommy was still very much in love with her.

“Don’t say that, Arthur”

“It’s true.”

But she knew it wasn’t.

After his initial letter, Tommy hadn’t made a single attempt to contact her. She was sure he was having her watched–likely tasking someone with the same objective she had watching over his cousin. But he never so much as wrote, called, sent a fucking telegram. Nothing.

It was as if she’d never existed.

And for a while, she thought maybe she hadn’t. She spent months questioning their relationship–replaying everything over and over in her mind until she’d nearly driven herself crazy.

In the end, she decided to believe it was real.

There _had_ been something between them. She knew she’d loved him. That she still did. And she chose to believe he’d truly loved her.

“Soph. You okay?” Michael asked from behind her.

At some point she’d stood and moved toward the window, though she didn’t remember doing it.

“How long have we been here, Michael?” she asked in return, shaking off the confusion.

“A year and a half.”

“And how many times are you going to ask if I’m okay?“ she asked.

“Until I know you are,” he said, not missing a beat.

It was that day she decided to take time away, to pull herself together and finally return to the small town where she’d grown up. To look for him, Vincenzo, the only surviving member of the Changretta family who she held responsible for what had happened to her own family. And finally put a bullet in his head.

That night Sophie told Michael of her plans. She also made her monthly call to Arthur, to keep him apprised of Michael’s personal life and affiliations.

He’d met a woman. A young, blonde, American woman, who seemed more infatuated with his success and money than him. But she’d seen it many times–a man falls in love with a beautiful woman who falls in love with his fat wallet. And she assured Arthur the woman was of little consequence and wasn’t cause for concern.

Then she packed her bags, returned to her small house, and spent the next several months preparing to track her target.

__________________

Tommy downed another glass of whisky. His fifth? Sixth? He was no longer sure.

All he knew was that Betty, the barmaid, would continue to serve him as long as he wanted. And that at some point in the night, he’d stagger home and fall into his bed hopefully to a dreamless sleep.

The dreams still came, but they were different.

He rarely dreamt of the tunnels anymore. His dreams had taken an interesting turn, but one that terrified him as much as the war.

Grace appeared to him. Urging him to end it all. To join her. To put that bullet in his brain.

But sometimes it was Sophie who appeared. And she urged him to stay. To push forward. She reminded him that he was needed. That, regardless of what others thought, of what he thought himself, he was a good man. He had good intentions. And that he deserved a good life.

He tended to believe Grace. But he chose to stay alive and hoped for sleep night after night on the chance he’d see Sophie. Even if he didn’t believe her.

___________________

“I have no fucking clue where she is, Arthur. I’ve been searching for months,” Michael shouted into the phone at his cousin on the other line.

“You’re coming back,” Arthur answered. “We’ve already booked passage.”

Michael ran his hand over his face and through his hair. He’d fucked it up. Had ruined it all. He dreaded seeing his family in Birmingham. Of facing his mother. But he actually feared Tommy. He knew what the man was capable of doing to his enemies. And chances were Michael had just made a pretty good enemy of himself.

“But Michael, you’re not coming back to Birmingham without her.”

Michael let out a sigh.

“Fucking find her,” Arthur said, abruptly ending the conversation.

Just as he slammed his phone on the receiver, Michael heard a familiar knock on his office door. It creaked open. Sophie poked her head in the small opening, smiling as if nothing had happened.

Clearly she hadn’t heard.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Sophie. Where the hell have you been?” he shouted, charging toward her.

“Whoa, calm down, Michael. Fuck. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” she said with a smirk.

Again, Michael let out a deep sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and Sophie thought instantly of Tommy. Of how he did the same thing when he was stressed or overwhelmed.

“What’s going on, Michael?” she asked, concerned now.

“We’re going back, Soph. Pack your bags.”

“Wait. What do you mean?” she asked as she felt her heart rate climb. She’d dealt with Vincenzo only two weeks ago. And while that’s what she’d wanted to accomplish, she wasn’t ready to go back. To face them again. To face _him_.

“It’s over, Soph,” Michael said, pacing around the room and aggressively pulling drag after drag of his cigarette.

“Michael, slow the fuck down,” she said, grabbing his shoulders and squaring his body toward hers so he’d have to look her in the eye.

But he didn’t look her in the eye. Instead he hung his head in defeat and stared at their shoes.

“The New York Stock Exchange–it’s crashed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie and Tommy are finally forced to face one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter does catch up to the events of S5, so it does contain spoilers.

“I had a dream about a black cat last night, Pol. A black cat dream means there is a traitor close by. It was you who taught me that.”

“Black cat can mean lots of things,” Polly responded. “Can mean you're hurting yourself. Betraying yourself.”

Tommy lit the cigarette hanging from his mouth and leaned his back against the bar. 

The dreams had been coming more frequently. The hallucinations more clearly. And since the news of the stock exchange crashing, he couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that things would get worse before they got better.

“Are you seeing things, Thomas?” Polly asked him after a few moments of silence.

“Yes, I am,” he responded without thinking. “Yes, I am. Very clearly. Coming from every fucking direction.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was nervous. Not for the meeting--he’d never been nervous to face his family, least of all Michael, even if he did lose much of the company’s holdings in the crash. He wanted to throttle his cousin, was ready to cut him out of the family altogether, but he wasn’t _ nervous _to see him. 

When she walked into the pub, it suddenly made sense. The bundle of nerves that had been sitting in his chest fell quickly to the pit of his stomach. 

_Sophie_.

She made quick eye contact with him, but promptly dodged his gaze by looking about the room for someone else, anyone else to address. She made a beeline for Polly on the other side of the room. 

Michael and Gina walked to the middle. They were the focus of the meeting, after all, and Sophie planned to fly under the radar. Why Tommy had insisted on her attending at all still had her a bit flustered. It wasn’t he who requested it directly, of course, but Arthur who spoke with her at the train station.

Polly just eyed her as Sophie moved to the woman’s side. The grin on her face indicating this was a moment she’d been waiting for. For Sophie, though, this was the moment she’d been dreading. 

She hadn’t wanted to return to Birmingham, not really, but she knew she had to. There was nothing left for her in America. Once and for all, she’d ended the feud that plagued her for so many years. And while that was a particular relief for her, she had no desire to stay and start over with a new life. 

The truth was she was comfortable in her new line of work. Pulling that trigger and dropping Vincenzo reignited a fight in her that she’d long ago lost. Her previous life in Birmingham was a dream to her now, an odd and sometimes frightening, always disappointing, dream. A dream in which she’d lost herself. She’d lost sight of who she was--from where she came. And her time in America only reminded her of that. 

Returning to Birmingham required a reconciliation of those two versions of herself. And she welcomed this.

It also required a reconciliation of another kind. One she wasn't ready for.

Tommy attempted to take charge of the meeting, almost immediately, clearing his throat and leaning his back against the bar to get everyone’s attention.

But Michael didn’t sit, not yet. Instead he walked toward his cousin and spoke first.

“Tommy, I'd like to introduce you to my wife,” Michael said, motioning toward Gina who sat at the small table behind him. “I would also like to say something--”

“Sit down, Michael,” Tommy interrupted.

But Michael continued, “I betrayed you--”

This time it was Polly who interrupted, taking a step toward them and ignoring Sophie as her focus now turned to her son.

“Michael,” she said sternly.

But again, Michael continued on, “But only in my heart. There was a time, in America, and there was a lot of money in that bank. And I wondered if I could I could leave, move to California. Someone said I should invest in pictures. Hollywood. But Sophie stopped me.” He nodded toward her where Sophie audibly gasped at the attention now turned on her. She felt her heart racing and feared it might actually burst from her. 

But Tommy didn’t even look in her direction.

“I told you to sit down, Michael,” he said.

This time Michael did what he was told and the discussion quickly shifted to the real order of business, the ship’s docking in Belfast and the run-in with the Billy Boys and the IRA that followed. 

Sophie hadn’t been aware of it at first, as both sides clearly focused on Tommy Shelby’s cousin rather than some woman he once knew. 

She was on edge for the rest of the trip after Michael came to her cabin and informed her of what had taken place. But in truth, she was also relieved to have been no part of it. Judging by Tommy’s demeanor, he wasn’t convinced by Michael’s story and Sophie was thankful she wasn’t also in a position to have to defend herself.

The fact that she clearly meant so little to Tommy that neither side would come for her had her feeling something else, though. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. A combination of all three. She was angered and frustrated that his enemies had apparently caught onto the dissolution of their relationship quicker than she had. And she was saddened to have to face it all over again.

Sophie realized she’d completely lost track of the conversation unfolding and had no idea how it’d taken the turn it had, but Micheal's proclamation caught her attention, snapping her back to the present.

“The reason Gina and I got married on the ship was because Gina is pregnant,” Michael said. “You're going to be a grandmother,” he added, turning to Polly.

Polly was shocked and Sophie could tell it was taking everything in her not to burst into tears right then and there. She sat at the next table, steadying herself to the news.

“Okay, Michael. I believe you,” Tommy finally said. “Welcome home. And congratulations.”

He extinguished the almost spent cigarette and added, “Just remember your unborn child has witnessed what you said.”

“Thomas!” Polly shouted, appalled at the gall her nephew had to curse an unborn baby.

“And it will be born according to--”

“You fuck!” Michael interrupted, practically jumping from his chair and moving toward Tommy, who didn’t even flinch.

Sophie, instinctively, moved toward the scuffle, but Arthur made it there first, restraining Michael who held onto Tommy’s empty gaze.

“Where the fuck are you going, hmm? Are you fucking mad?” Arthur asked his cousin. “You are free to fucking leave, Michael.”

“You fucking bastard,” Michael spat at Tommy through gritted teeth.

“But you're not free, Michael, are you? You lost this company a lot of money,” Tommy replied calmly. “I told you to sell but you held on, and now I want you to pay me back what you owe me. There is work you can do, there are risks you can take. We were close before. Now I want you closer still,” Tommy said, claiming the last word.

“Michael, honey,” Gina said. “Look at your cousin. He's in trouble, huh? He needs you. Come on, baby, let's go.” 

And with that, Michael, Gina, and Polly left the pub in a flurry.

“Black cat dream is never wrong, brother,” Arthur added before taking one look at Sophie and walking out the door behind them.

The gravity of the situation finally hit Sophie for the first time. 

A black cat dream. She didn’t know much about Romani culture, but she was sure she’d heard about black cat dreams from Polly when Alfie Solomons had betrayed Tommy at the fights two years prior. They were bad omens. They signified a traitor approaching. 

Tommy had told Michael to sell, and Michael had refused, fancying himself the wiser man. Clearly Tommy interpreted this as a traitorous act. An act of betrayal.

And Sophie questioned this herself. _ Is Michael a traitor? Was there something happening in America I should have noticed? Could I have stopped this? _She thought.

Tommy stood in silence for a few moments, not even looking at Sophie, instead stepping behind the bar to grab another bottle of whiskey and pour himself a drink.

He nodded in her direction, to ask if she would care for a drink herself, but she shook her head to refuse the offer.

Tommy leaned against the bar and finally looked at her, drinking her in after what felt like an eternity. He’d forgotten so much about her. The intense way she could hold his eye contact. The way she always seemed to be smiling from the corners of her mouth, even when she was unhappy or upset. He’d remembered how beautiful she was, but was struck by the new air of confidence that emanated from her, as if it just added to the charm. 

She was wearing her hair different, but she’d changed in other ways too.

“You look different,” he said, finally deciding to speak to her for the first time in two years.

“How so?” Sophie asked in return.

He didn’t know how to answer the question, because he couldn’t exactly identify it himself. He knew what she’d done in America, of course, always staying informed of her movements but never letting her know as much. But he wasn’t sure if that’s what had changed her. 

“I don’t know. At peace?” He finally offered as much a question as an answer.

Sophie just smiled.

She certainly didn’t consider herself at peace. She was satisfied that she’d sought and found justice for her family, but she wasn’t at all at peace with what she’d done. 

“I feel different.”

“At peace?” He asked.

“No,” she answered. “You know, Tommy, in my time away I learned just how alike we are, you and I. And you know as well as I do that people like us will never have peace.”

Something about what she said and how she said it cut to Tommy’s core. He didn’t want Sophie to be like him. He wanted her to find peace. But somewhere deep inside, he knew she was right. She had proven she was like him--determined, stubborn really, and unrelenting in the pursuit of what they wanted. _ Damn if she isn’t exactly right, _he thought.

He felt like he should say something--tell her she was wrong, assure her she’d one day find peace, remind her just how much better than him she really was. But he couldn’t form the right words. So, as usual, he remained silent.

“You look different, too,” she continued after a short pause, gesturing toward his hair.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and grinned. 

And Sophie felt it in her gut. That grin. 

It always did have a way of leaving her breathless, of knocking her flat on her ass when she least expected it. 

She realized in that moment just how much she’d missed being near him. And she found herself frantically working out any way of remaining close to him.

She’d come to the meeting to resign from Shelby Company, for the second time. But when he grinned she panicked at the thought of leaving him again.

She cleared her throat to speak, to ask for more work, any excuse to stay near him, but was relieved when Tommy beat her to it. She tried to steady herself again. 

“Clearly your work in America is finished. I've some ideas for you,” he paused to take a drag from his freshly lit cigarette then continued, “but I have plans tonight. Come to Charlie’s yard tomorrow. We can work out the details.”

Sophie just stared at him, unable, in that moment, to decide what direction she should take. _Refuse, walk away for good, leave it all behind? Or agree, keep him near, risk it all?_

“That is assuming you still want to work for us,” he added.

“No. I mean, yes. Of course I do," She answered quicker than she thought she could.

Sophie felt her palms grow sweaty, suddenly anxious now that she'd committed to something.

That’s when the door to the pub swung open and a slight, dark haired woman entered. She looked at Sophie first, then glanced at Tommy before returning her gaze to Sophie.

Tommy cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

“Ah, well, you're busy,” Sophie said to no one in particular. 

“Yes, we've got plans--” 

But Sophie interrupted him, just smiling, “You said that.”

Somewhat abruptly, Sophie turned and made her way from the pub, not even giving him an opportunity to respond. She didn’t need a response, Jesse Eden’s presence said it all. 

She’d recognized the young woman from the photographs she’d seen in the paper. Sophie wasn’t sure if she was still in Tommy’s life, as Arthur hadn’t mentioned her in his updates as of late. But seeing her walk in, the look she gave Tommy, his reaction to the two women being in the same room--it was all the update she needed.

Inside the pub, Jesse turned her attention to Tommy, somewhat shocked at Sophie’s rude behavior. She hadn’t even stopped to introduce herself.

“You going tell me what that's about?” Jesse asked, fidgeting with her gloves.

“No,” was all the response she received.

Because just then, he spotted Sophie’s shawl on the back of a chair by where she’d stood during the meeting. It was a deep green and he thought how it must compliment her skin tone. It was elegant--and it made him think of just how full of contradictions she was. Soft, feminine, full of class. A woman who could _wear that_ shawl. But strong, tough, merciless when necessary. A woman who could drop a ruthless Italian mobster with _one shot _from a distant hillside. After all this time, she still fascinated him. 

“Let’s go, Thomas," Jesse said, sensing he'd been distracted.

“One minute.”

He made his way across the room as Jesse walked out of the pub ahead of him. He gently lifted the shawl off the back of the chair, careful not to let any ash fall from his cigarette onto the delicate material. He held it to his nose and inhaled deeply. 

It was soft in his calloused and overworked hands.

And it smelled like fucking peonies.

Tommy tossed it on the table and followed Jesse out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a quick note for S5 spoilers. That'll be the case moving forward, so you've been warned!!

Despite getting only a few hours of sleep, Sophie arrived at Charlie’s yard right on time. It was so early the sun was barely up, the fog barely lifting. She was surprised to find Polly and Arthur there, with no sign of Tommy. 

She stood next to Arthur by the fire, nudging him with her shoulder as she took her place there. Arthur slapped her back and smiled, ear to ear.

“It’s good to have you home, love,” Polly said with a smile. 

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Pol. And congratulations. Exciting news.”

Polly just nodded in a way that made Sophie uneasy. Surely Polly would be over the moon to have a grandchild on the way, but she barely perked an eyebrow at the comment. 

Tommy, as he so often did, stalked up to the group so quietly they hadn’t heard him approach. Sophie was startled to turn and find him standing on the other side of her, lighting a cigarette.

“You’re late,” she said instinctively, falling into a comfortable rapport without thinking.

“Right, well, we’re all here,” he said, no more concerned with her comment than if she’d made a frivolous observation about the weather. “Let’s discuss business.”

Tommy went on to explain that he wanted to hire her to corner and kill a man in Chinatown. Arthur explained that he was a “bad man,” which was clarified by Polly to mean that he was a pimp, dealing in young children.

“Fucking kids, Sophie,” Arthur added. 

Sophie’s mouth went dry and her stomach tightened. It was sickening, to be sure, but she couldn’t make sense of why the Shelby family had become involved. Things had certainly changed since she’d been gone.

“So you’re in the business of improving the world now?” Sophie asked to no one specifically. 

“It’s a particular opportunity,” Polly answered.

Sophie just looked to Tommy for further explanation, knowing he’d been the one to make the decision and would be the one to explain it. 

“A particular opportunity for £50,000,” he said, answering her unasked question. “This pimp is blackmailing a senior member of the House of Lords--a very wealthy man.”

And then she understood. The family was scrambling after the crash--looking for other ways to procure easy money. They were returning their focus to less than honest means, having to let go of legitimate business for a time to build back up their reserves. 

_ Fucking Michael, _ she thought.

Somehow, though, it felt oddly comforting to her. She’d fell in with the family when they were only _beginning_ to move into legitimate money. To know they were rediscovering their roots felt natural. She thought perhaps she _did_ have a place in this world still. 

“I still don't understand. You have the muscle, why do you need me for this?” She asked.

Tommy let out a deep sigh. He wasn’t accustomed to having to justify his decisions. In the last two years, he only had to explain himself to Polly. To have Sophie back, needing explanation from him, questioning his authority, was going to prove more difficult than he remembered. But it was, at the same time, somehow exhilarating. He’d forgotten how it felt to face a challenge like her.

“We received intelligence from a senior police officer in Scotland Yard. They can clear the streets for us, they feel the same way about this pimp as we do, but they can’t protect us from his men. And his men know us," he said. "But they don’t know you--not by sight.”

“Plus you’re slippery. Proven that already,” Arthur added with a grin, pulling her into a side hug.

The three of them just looked at her now, awaiting an answer. 

Tommy’s stare tore through her, as it always had. She felt the urge to refuse him. To tell him this wasn’t what she’d signed up for. But she knew if she did, she’d lose him once and for all. 

But another part of her, a part deeper inside, pulled at her to accept the offer. To let the rage that had been building inside her do the work she knew she could do.

Sophie nodded.

And with that, Tommy tossed his cigarette on the ground and straightened his hat.

“Good,” he said. “Get it done. I’ll collect the payment and we’ll get you out of that fucking flat on Watery Lane.

* * *

Sophie took her time down the hallway toward Tommy’s office. She enjoyed being the only woman in a hallway full of powerful men. Men wondering who she was and why she was there. Women had only begun making their way into Parliament and continued to confuse their male counterparts with their fierce acumen, and Sophie could have easily been one of them. A single look at Sophie and these men knew she wasn’t to be trifled with.

And it felt good to no longer be trifled with.

The smile she’d been wearing drained from her face as she turned the corner into Tommy’s office. His door was open, but when he looked up to see her enter, he motioned for her to shut it as she entered.

She did as he wanted then crossed the room to sit in front of him.

Tommy hadn’t been expecting her but, as usual, didn’t let any surprise he may have experienced to show on his face. 

“I hear you did well," he said, reaching into his drawer and removing a roll of bills. "You didn’t need to come all the way to London to collect your cut."

Sophie looked at the money. Then back at Tommy, before picking it up and placing it in her purse. She didn’t need to count it to know it’d be enough.

“I didn’t come to London to collect. I’m looking for a flat. Meeting Ada here soon. Thought I’d stop by to see your office,” she said, lighting a cigarette she’d taken from his desk without asking.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, leaning forward on his elbows, when the phone rang and interrupted his effort. 

“Let him in,” was all he said to the secretary who’d called.

Sophie noted how his demeanor changed in that moment. He’d started out the same overly confident, powerful, and commanding presence she knew him to be. But whoever was coming through those doors to meet him was a force that made him anxious. She could read it in the way he leaned back in his chair and tossed his glasses on the blotter. The familiar gesture as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The way he straightened his lapels and collected himself. 

As the doors to his office opened, Sophie stood and moved out of the way. The man that entered the office had an incredible air about him. If Tommy Shelby was intimidating, this man was terrifying. He had a brashness about him. A pretension. A Machiavellian posture that frightened her to the core. She could tell, in that instant, that he was evil.

And he looked straight at her.

Tommy cleared his throat, trying to move the man’s attention from Sophie, but it was no use. She suddenly understood why he’d been so uneasy to welcome this man into his office.

“Mr. Mosley, this is my business associate. Sophia Murphy. Sophie, this is Sir Oswald Mosley.” Tommy gestured between the two of them, clearly unhappy to make the introduction, but knowing he’d had no choice.

Mosley reached out a hand and Sophie responded by giving him her own. His handshake was firm, almost threatening. But it wasn’t his touch that repulsed her. It was the look in his eye. The way he let his eyes trail up and down her body, without restraint. The way he licked his lips before he spoke.

“_Business associate_. And what is it you _ do_?” Mosley asked in a suggestive tone.

Sophie was accustomed to men like this expecting her to be something she wasn’t. Mosley wasn’t the first crooked piece of shit to assume she was only valuable for what lay between her legs. But something about the _ way _ he said it put her on edge.

“Well, as of late, I'm a hired assassin,” she said batting her eyelashes and flashing him a sly smile, taking a note from Tommy’s book and letting the outside mask what she felt on the inside.

She’d caught him off guard and watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

“I suppose you two have something important to discuss, so I’ll be off,” she added after a brief pause. She returned to Tommy’s desk to extinguish her cigarette.

“Why don’t you wait for me outside, darling,” Tommy said. “I won’t be long here and I can walk you out.”

She stopped in her tracks, floored by what he’d said.

Darling. _ Darling? _Sophie wondered if she’d heard correctly or if she was losing her mind.

Tommy stepped around the desk and placed his hands on her arms, turning her to face him so that her back was to Mosley.

Then he looked deep into her eyes and kissed her.

It was a soft, slow kiss. But it was deep. And she felt it in the recesses of her stomach.

She’d thought about his lips, his tongue, his kiss, so many times over the last two years. Had imagined him pulling her in close, tilting her chin toward him, kissing her with _ want _ . She’d pictured it in her mind. She’d _ longed _ for it.

But she was shocked it’d actually happened.

And when he pulled away, she was immediately disappointed to see in his eyes that it had all been for show. That moment of pure ecstasy fell away from her like broken glass.

She hesitated, but eventually turned to leave the office--her legs a little unsteady beneath her--nodding at Mosley as she went.

* * *

When he emerged from the office a few moments later, Mosley drank her in again. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Murphy. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.”

Sophie forced a smile at him, physically shuttering as he walked away from her. 

Tommy approached from behind her, placing her coat on her shoulders. She thanked him softly and the two walked down the hall together, down the stairs and toward the exit. 

After they found themselves in a fairly quiet hallway, Sophie found the courage to say what was on her mind.

“I’m not sure you remember the first day we met,” she said without looking at him.

“I remember.”

“Then you remember me telling you I wouldn’t fuck anyone for you.”

“I don’t want you to fuck anyone,” Tommy said, as if it were obvious.

“So flirt with him, then? Perhaps tease him? Or am I to extract information from him?” She asked sarcastically.

Tommy stopped walking. It took a few steps before Sophie realized and turned to face him.

“I don't want you anywhere near him,” Tommy said now, the conviction on his face unlike any she’d ever seen. 

“Then what was that for, Tommy? That show back there?” Sophie’s voice was growing uneasy--the anger rising so fast she couldn’t control it. 

Tommy stood silent, pulling a long drag from his cigarette. His eyes darted around the hallway over her shoulder and refused to make direct contact with hers. Sophie understood what it was he wanted to say, but refused to vocalize.

“Okay, first of all, what makes you think for a second that Oswald Mosley wants me?” 

But that question, too, went unanswered. 

“Do you really think kissing me in front of him is going to stop anything? He doesn't strike me as the kind of man who gives up on what he wants.”

And it was that comment which cut Tommy to his core. 

He didn’t think himself the type to give up either. But he had. He’d let Sophie go without a fight. He didn’t stop her from leaving. He didn’t go to America immediately to bring her back. He simply gave up the fight before it ever started.

“I could tell the way he looked at you that he wanted you,” was all he said, looking away again.

He was growing anxious again, like he had before Mosley had entered his office. Sophie, constantly conflicted, felt the urge to comfort him.

“I don't need protection, Tommy,” she whispered softly, stepping closer to him.

He tossed his spent cigarette on the floor, and pushed past her, continuing his way toward the exit. Sophie rolled her eyes and followed after him.

“You do from him,” was all he said in response.


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m pregnant,” Ada blurted out from nowhere. 

Sophie nearly choked on her drink, but was able to swallow the shock before she accidentally spit whiskey all over her friend. 

She looked at Ada, surprise spreading across her face, but before Sophie could ask any clarifying questions, Ada saw them coming.

“Yes, I know who the father is. And no, you don’t know him,” she said.

“Ada, that’s wonderful!” Sophie took her friend’s hand and gave it a strong squeeze.

Ada was glowing, clearly happy about the news, so Sophie chose not to press about the details. She was worried for her friend, but she was happy to finally be catching up after so long away.

The two sat at the corner booth in the Garrison while the bustling pub carried on around them. The conversation, as to be expected, eventually shifted to Tommy. Sophie found she couldn't spend much time with anyone in Birmingham, and especially not his family, without him becoming the center of conversation. 

She didn’t need to admit the wild range of emotions she felt about the situation, about Tommy, as Ada was able to suss it out by just looking at her.

"Tommy's really been struggling," Ada said. 

Sophie knew this. Arthur had mentioned it more than once. And Sophie could see it on his face. He’d looked more tired than he had before. Was more short tempered. Seemed constantly in a foggy haze. And she’d seen him drink more whiskey than ever. 

“He’s always struggled, hasn’t he? Facing the war and losing a wife will do that to a man, even one as tough as Tommy.”

“He’s not so tough,” Ada said, chuckling.

She was right. He had softened to her before she left for America. She’d witnessed another side of the infamous _brutal gangster_. Had even come to believe it was all a mask he wore to most of the world. She had seen beyond it, and she knew Ada _always_ had as well.

“The truth is, I think losing you has pushed him over the brink,” Ada replied.

Her heart sank. That’s the last thing she’d wanted to consider. She couldn’t bear having hurt him and had convinced herself he’d never loved her as deeply as she thought. Despite all of her effort, there had been a part of her that would sneak to the surface and tell her otherwise.

“He didn’t lose me, Ada.”

“Of course he did. And he’s been desperate to have you back, even if he won’t admit it.”

* * *

Sophie woke from a fitful sleep and drowsily mad a cup of coffee to try and force herself more alert. It was early, too early, and all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep off the whiskey still flowing through her system and forming a miserable headache between her eyes. _Damn you Ada, letting me drink enough for the both of us,_ she thought. 

Despite having risen early, she found herself rushing out the door for her meeting. She’d taken too long trying to hide the dark circles under her eyes and was anxious to be late.

As she arrived at Charlie’s yard, she realized she was right on time. Tommy was already there, as was Arthur, with a rifle slung over his shoulder. With them stood a man she didn’t recognize. They were just wrapping up a conversation as she approached. The man looked at Sophie, tipping his hat, and greeting her with a thick Scottish accent. 

“I think you’re free to go now, Mr. McCavern,” Arthur said, clenching his fists. 

“Not until you’ve properly introduced me,” the man responded, not taking his eyes off Sophie. 

Arthur took a step toward the man, but Tommy raised his hand and held his brother back. 

“Sophie, this is Jimmy McCavern, a business associate,” Tommy said, training his stare on Jimmy. “This is Sophia Murphy.”

She chose not to shake his outstretched hand, and nodded politely instead. 

As he walked away, Sophie noticed the goosebumps that had formed on her arms. She didn’t know who he was or how he was wrapped up with the Shelby clan, but she trusted Arthur's judgement and didn’t care to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in his company. 

“I thought you said he’d be gone before she got here,” Arthur said to his brother.

But Tommy didn’t say anything in response and just took the rifle off Arthur’s shoulder and turned to Sophie.

“Let’s see it then,” he said, checking the cartridge to ensure it was loaded and giving her the gun, looking her in the eye for the first time all morning. He removed a cigarette from the case in his breast pocket, ran it across his lips, and lit it, all too casually.

“What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed that Tommy clearly expected her to read his mind.

Tommy just pointed at the target set up about 100 meters down the length of the yard. 

Sophie knew she could make that shot, had made more difficult ones in recent months, but still she didn’t understand why he was asking her to prove it.

Arthur was similarly confused.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Tom,” he said. “Not Sophie!?”

But Tommy didn’t budge. 

She looked him in the eye and determined to prove herself. Just what she was attempting to prove, and why she wanted to, she had no idea.

She leaned against the unlit fire pit, crouching behind it and ignoring the fact that her skirt was soaking in mud. She readied the rifle against her shoulder, trained her sights, and pulled the trigger as she let out a deep breath. As always, her eyes slammed shut at the sound, but she kept them shut and held her breath until Arthur spoke first.

“Fucking hell!!!” he laughed loudly. “Who would have ever guessed there’s a sharpshooter behind that sweet face of yours, love!!??”

Tommy said nothing and instead walked toward the target to inspect the mark left by the bullet. As he expected, it’d pierced the middle of the bulls-eye. He knew she’d be perfect for the job. And as much as it pained him to think of putting her in harms way, he knew he needed her if he was actually going to pull it off. He threw his spent cigarette on the ground. 

Now the only thing he had to do was convince Sophie she was going to shoot Oswald Mosley.

* * *

“Are you fucking mental?” she asked, after Tommy had explained the details of the plan.

He didn’t answer.

“Of course you are,” she said. “You know, I knew I should have listened to Arthur and to Ada. I didn’t want to believe you were losing your mind, but fuck, Tommy, clearly you already have.”

Tommy stalked toward her, quickly, and pushed her against the damp wall of the barn so fast she hadn’t seen it coming.

He was sick of people calling him crazy. He was sick of everyone questioning his ideas and intentions. He was sick of no one listening to him. But mostly, he was just sick. And that angered him the most. Tommy knew that whatever was happening to him wasn’t healthy. He knew he needed to get his head sorted. That the hallucinations, the paranoia, the constant inventory he had to take of the world around him to ground himself, were all going to catch up with him. But fuck if he wasn’t going to run from it for as long as he could. He knew no other way. 

And admitting any of that to Sophie was out of the question.

He held her jaw with one hand, his other propped against the barn next to her head as he pushed with all his weight. He could tell he was hurting her, but she looked him dead in the eye, defiant still.

Tommy knew his plan was risky. But he had to kill the message. And to that, he had to kill the man. Sophie was the only hope he had.

Just as he was about to loosen his grip and let her go, she spoke.

“I nearly came back to Birmingham twice,” she said. “Once when Arthur phoned to say he was worried about Charlie, after he was thrown from the horse. But Michael talked me out of it. He said Arthur was exaggerating.”

Arthur had been right to be worried. Charlie was in hospital for several weeks. But he had been alright--suffering from a broken arm and lots of bruises to be sure, but in no real danger. 

Tommy had no idea Arthur had told her about that. He realized then that his brother had probably told her much more.

“And the second time?” he asked, resisting the overwhelming urge to kiss her now that he stood so close. Even there, in the muck and the mud, she smelled sweet and radiated a warmth he’d hopelessly missed every day since she’d been gone. 

“The second time was when Arthur phoned to say he was worried about you.”

Tommy let go of her then, but remained close, resting both hands on either side of her head now, and leaning forward. He looked at their shoes, unable to take her intense eye contact any longer for fear she’d see straight through him.

“He was right to be worried, wasn’t he, Tommy? You are going a little mad, aren’t you?”

And he realized it was too late. She'd already seen straight through him.

Instead of answering, Tommy leaned in and kissed her. 

It was different from the kiss in his office. It was real, somehow--laced with heat and passion. Slow and steady at first, but building to a frenzy when he pressed his body against hers. 

Sophie knew it was a mistake, but couldn’t help kissing back. She’d wanted this to happen since stepping back on English soil. But she was terrified of what it might mean. 

Tommy was supposedly with Jesse. Sophie was now a hired gun working for him. Both Mosley and this McCavern fellow were clearly circling the waters. 

But most of all, Tommy was unwell. She wasn’t even sure if he was fully aware of what he was doing.

For that moment, though, that brief moment, she pushed it all down and allowed herself to feel whole again. Things finally felt real in that moment, wrapped in his arms, feeling the heat radiate from him, and kissing him like her life depended on it.

And it very likely did. 


	7. Chapter 7

The coffee wasn’t strong enough. 

Sophie thought about pouring a little whiskey in the cup, but decided better of it when the image of Tommy popped into her mind. She needed to stay sharp if she was going to march down to his office and address their kiss. 

But she did need stronger coffee.

She’d stayed there, wrapped in his arms, for longer than she should. But it had felt so incredible to kiss him again. It was so real, so raw. So full of the longing she’d experienced over the last two years, brimming with it. It was like a cup overfilled and spilling over the top, the overwhelming emotion spilling down her sides and collecting at her feet.

When they finally separated, Tommy had looked deep into her eyes, like he did long before she left for America. Like he had when he told her he was in love with her. Sophie found herself wondering, for the millionth time, if he still felt the same.

“Hi” is all he said as he stroked her cheek. As if he was actually seeing her for the first time since she’d arrived back in Birmingham. A small smirk gracing his lips.

Sophie smiled in response and looked at her feet, unable to bear the look in his eyes for very long. She fought the urge to pull him against her again. Pushed down the breath fighting to escape her lungs in short bursts.

“Soph,” he said as he raised her face with a single finger under her jaw. “I’ve missed you.”

Those three words carried the power to mend her broken heart. They could have practically undone the last two years. Put it all back together again. Pulled her back into his orbit without a single attempt to fight on her behalf. But instead, they deepened the cracks. 

“I missed you too, Tommy.”

But that didn’t matter.

Tommy leaned in close again, preparing to kiss her. His eyes fluttered shut. She felt his breath on her face.

But she placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. Tommy opened his eyes looking for an answer in Sophie’s. But he didn’t find it there and had to wait until she spoke to understand. 

“Tommy, it’s not that easy,” she said. 

Still, Tommy had remained silent. 

“What about Jesse?” She asked.

“It’s not like that,” Tommy said shaking his head and looking at Sophie’s lips as if he wanted to kiss them again. “It’s not like this.” 

“I know,” Sophie responded. “But I won’t be the other woman, even to a sham relationship.”

Tommy nodded. In truth, he didn’t want that for Sophie either. He and Jesse needed to break off their public courtship anyway–it was past due. Even though he wasn’t attracted to her romantically, Tommy knew he’d been holding on because it afforded him at least a small sliver of companionship–something he’d otherwise be completely lacking.

“You’re not well, Tommy,” Sophie said, snapping him out of the thoughts he’d been lost in.

He was so tired of hearing that. 

In his own way, Tommy was well aware of his instability. He knew he wasn’t well. He knew he was too dependent on cigarettes, booze, and now the laudanum. 

But he was so sick of everyone else bringing it up. Polly had said it too many times to count. Arthur was sure to remind him of it often.. Even Jesse had contributed on more than one occasion.

But as quick as they were to tell him he was unwell, none of them ever offered a solution to the problem. Ada was the only one who seemed to genuinely care. But her suggestion, to see a doctor, had proven too difficult. Tommy couldn’t stand the idea of letting a complete stranger in. He’d always been able to shut the door on his problems before and was still convinced the trick would work for this as well. He just needed to give it more time.

He rolled his eyes and turned away from her, removing yet another cigarette from the small tin in his breast pocket and rolling it over his lips. 

“You need to take care of yourself,” he heard her say behind him.

“I’m fine,” he responded without turning to look at her.

“No you’re not. You’re seeing—”

“Clearly,” he interrupted. “I’m seeing clearly.”

“Tommy—”

“Don’t.” He raised a hand at her and closed his eyes. He knew what came next, what always came next.

“I care about you,” she said.

“So are you going to take this job or not?” He asked her coldly, putting all remnants of the former conversation behind them.

“Tommy—”

“Yes or no, Sophie?” He asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Yes,” she squeezed out, tears welling in her eyes as she watched him shut down again–closing the doors to his heart and locking it away.

“Good,” was all he offered in return, flicking his cigarette to the ground.  
As he walked away, Sophie called after him.

“Just be careful, Tommy.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, to softly for her to hear it.

The knock on the door snapped Sophie out of her day dream. She looked into her coffee mug feeling nothing but disdain for the weak blend that wouldn’t allow her to focus. She raised herself slowly from the chair and lazily walked to the door.

What stood on the other side would send a jolt sure to wake her better than even the strongest coffee.

It was Jimmy McCavern. 

In his hand was a green silk wrap, one that was instantly familiar to Sophie. He held it out to her, smiling from the side of his mouth as if it represented something she should immediately understand. But she was too shocked to make sense of it. She took the shawl from his hands, feeling the familiar weight of it in her own, and flashed him the same sweet smile she’d given him at Charlie’s yard.

McCavern removed his hat. 

“Will you invite me in?” he asked, through his thick Scottish brogue. 

Sophie panicked but moved out of the way to let him in. She left the door open, hoping he’d take it as a signal that she wasn’t inviting him inside to stay, only out of politeness. 

He glanced at the door, then back to Sophie, seeming to understand.

“I won’t keep you, of course. I simply wanted to let you know that you should be more careful.” After a moment he nodded at the wrap in her hands.

“Wouldn’t want anything that important to turn up missing.” 

Sophie looked him straight in the eyes and squared her shoulders to him. She was afraid of this man, but wasn’t about to let him know that. 

“Thank you,” she said with a slight nod. “But I assure you, I can take care of myself.”

McCavern put his hands up and shook his head. “I’m just talking about your wrap there, lassie.” 

“Well thank you for returning it, Mr. McCavern. I didn’t even realize it was missing.”

He chucked. “A smart one, you are. Wasn’t sure if you caught my name there yesterday,” he said with a smile.

Again, Sophie just smiled back, not wanting to continue the conversation a second longer than necessary.

He returned his hat atop his head and tipped the brim in her direction as he slinked past her and back into the hall. 

“Can’t trust anyone these days, can you?” he commented before lumbering down the hallway, whistling as he went.

Sophie shut the door and locked it. A shiver worked its way from the base of her neck to the bottom of her spine. It was quickly followed by an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She wracked her brain trying to remember the last place she’d had the wrap. _Was it at drinks with Ada? Was it the meeting with her landlord when she rented the flat?_

Then it hit her.

She’d had it the first day she was back in Birmingham. At the meeting with the Shelby family at the Garrison. And she couldn’t remember seeing it since. 

_But how had Jimmy McCavern come across it? _

_Don’t trust anyone._ The words kept replaying in her mind. 

_Who had he meant? _

Sophie instinctively went to the phone, thinking she ought tell Tommy immediately. Someone at the Garrison that day had given McCavern her shawl. Tommy knew the black cat dreams were real. And this could help him narrow the list of suspects.

But then she realized she couldn’t even trust the girls at the exchange to not listen in to the conversation.

So she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door. She needed to find Tommy in person.

That’s when her phone rang, catching her on her way out.

Before she could even greet who was on the other end, a familiar voice, wracked with tears, came through.

“Sophie,” said Ada. “It’s Tommy. There’s been an explosion.”


	8. Chapter 8

Her feet took her up the stairs faster than she thought they could. It wasn’t until her hand reached for the doorknob that she realized she’d been holding her breath the whole way there. 

Sophie had been so hysterical that she’d only registered part of what Ada had told her on the phone. 

There had been an explosion. Outside of Tommy’s office. Tommy wasn’t hurt, but a young boy was killed. 

“And, Sophie,” Ada had said, “He’s in a bad way.” 

Sophie knew exactly what that meant. She dropped the receiver and headed for his office as quickly as she could move.

Upon arrival, she turned the handle and burst into the room to find Tommy standing by the window, having just fastened a plank of wood there to cover the missing glass. He stood in his shirt sleeves, cigarette dangling from his lips, hammer poised to drive another nail, a single bead of sweat working its way over his jaw and down his neck, when he turned and saw her.

She hesitated for a moment, realizing it was only the second time she’d seen Tommy sweat. The first was years before, when they shared a bed together. The memory flashed through her mind. His strong frame holding her close, skin on skin, their bodies intertwined, their breath heavy with pleasure. It was a memory she hadn’t recalled in quite some time, trying her best to repress it since she’d decided it wasn’t likely to happen again. But seeing him stood in his office, not wholly put together as he usually was, brought it forth with a force.

Shaking it from her mind, she rushed to Tommy’s side and searched him over for injury, pulling at his shirt, lifting his arms, feeling his chest and shoulders, and grabbing his face to look him over thoroughly. 

Tommy said nothing, as if he realized what she was doing.

Certain he was free from injury, Sophie rested her forehead on his chest and tried to steady her breath. 

When Tommy’s hands reached around her back as if to hug her, she reacted another way. With clenched fists, she began beating at him, pounding his chest as the tears freely flowed down her face.

“Sophie,” he said. “I’m alright. It was outside.” He used the same low brum that had always calmed her. But this time it only made her more angry. 

“Sophie,” he said again, holding her elbows to stop the onslaught of fists landing about him.

“I know, Tommy.” She finally said in response. “It’s not the explosion.”

Tommy looked at her, not quite understanding what she meant. His eyes searched her face for explanation, but all they saw were sadness and pain. Her tear stained cheeks were red with a growing frustration and he recognized it immediately. He’d missed this. He’d missed the way she never took his shit, the way she always fought back when he’d been otherwise uncontested. And he needed her now, more than ever. He needed her level head as his threatened to betray him over and over. 

But he’d ruined it that day in Charlie’s yard. He’d had his chance, had almost let her back in, before slamming the door with his fast temper, yet again.

His mind wandering, Tommy hadn’t realized what Sophie was doing. She reached into his pocket, not breaking eye contact with him while she dug for the capsule. Pulling it out and holding it in front of his face she simply asked, “Why do you have this, Tommy?”

Tommy felt his heart beat faster. His family knew, of course, but had yet to confront him about his hallucinations. Ada had come closest, suggesting he see a doctor. And he had seen a doctor, but decided after two visits that there was nothing he could do to help. He’d made up his mind that nothing could help. 

Unable to take Sophie’s sober stare, Tommy quickly turned away from her. 

“I need you  _ here _ , Tommy,” she said.

“Everyone  _ fucking _ needs me.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Everyone  _ fucking _ needs you,” Sophie spat back, grabbing his shoulder to spin her to face her. 

And he did, but he just stared at her, that blank expression replacing any softness that had previously worked its way to the surface.

Sophie cupped his cheek in her hand, needing him to understand that he didn’t have to be so fucking tough with her. She knew better.

“But I  _ want _ you here,” she said, before turning to leave.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Tommy picked up the phone to make the call he was finally ready to make. 

* * *

Tommy checked his pocket watch. It was two minutes till and it wasn’t like Jesse to be late. He set his empty glass on the table, stood, and paced around to the other side of the bar. He was already a few glasses in and went straight for his favorite whiskey, not even needing to peruse the bottles as he knew exactly where it was kept. But instead of settling on it, Tommy’s hand hesitated over a bottle of champagne. This was an occasion for celebration, he thought. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but if he were going to drink alone he may as well make it festive. 

He grabbed two stemmed glasses just as he heard her enter. 

“I'm not happy about moving this meeting to licensed premises,” Jesse announced as she marched inside.

“You've saved your union the train fare, and you hate London anyway,” he said in response, walking back around the bar to join her at the small table.

“We're looking for popular speakers for our upcoming rally. You're making quite a name for yourself in the Commons,” Jesse added, removing her gloves and placing them gently on the sticky table top.

Tommy worked to open the champagne, the cork unceremoniously bouncing around the light fixture before coming to a rest on the floor by his chair.

“You'll drink it on your own,” Jesse said, nodding to the second glass he’d sat before her.

Tommy smirked. “Revolution,” he said, raising his glass as if toasting to their mutual belief and taking a hefty swig.

“I haven’t heard from you in a few days,” Jesse said. “Am I to assume our strategy holds?”

“This glass. The bubbles,” Tommy said, tapping the glass as he held it in the air. “They rise to the top. Each bubble has the same chance to rise.”

“That is a very peculiar form of socialism,” Jesse replied, shaking her head slightly and looking him over.

“And this bottle,” he added, picking up the bottle and looking at the label. “Once the cork comes out you can't get it back in. You need to finish what you started.” Tommy opened his arms wide, motioning to his surroundings--the ornate bar with the name ‘Shelby’ etched into every pane of glass. “It's cleverness, that's all,” he added with a tipsy smile.

“So you're playing at this,” Jesse added in more of a statement than a question.

“People can be turned around. Even your people,” Tommy replied.

“My people?”

“Yeah. For them, it's just the same. Communism. Fascism.” He nodded toward her before downing the last drops in his fluted glass. “For most people, it's an apple and an apple.”

“Fascism is the subject of the rally. I want you to speak against it,” Jesse said, not amused by his squiffy banter.

“In answer to your question I cannot address your rally because it's not part of the current strategy,” Tommy said, finally responding to her more serious inquiry. 

“Ahh. So you have yourself a new strategy?” Jesse asked, clearly miffed. “And I assume it includes the arrival of a certain American in Birmingham?”

No longer interested in hiding his frustration, Tommy let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand along his face. 

“Let’s stop pretending at this, eh?”

Jesse stood, pushing her chair back as she did. The screech it produced across the floor making the point Jesse hoped it would. 

It was over.

“You’re the one lying to yourself, Thomas,” she said before marching toward the door and letting it slam behind her.

Tommy poured himself one more glass of champagne and quickly knocked it back.

“Congratulations, Ms. Eden,” he mumbled to himself. “You’re finally rid of me.”

* * *

Sophie hurried past the secretary and knocked on the double wooden doors herself. 

She had entered the Garrison, still unsure of what she was hoping to find.

Something about the pub had felt strange from the beginning--since she’d returned. And now that Jimmy McCavern had shown up on her doorstep holding the wrap she knew she’d left there, she was more certain than ever that she couldn’t trust it, that her gut was right. There was something afoot and she was determined to track it down.

She started by searching the bar itself, looking through the shelves as if some answer to some unknown question was going to jump out at her.

When that search came up empty, she moved on to the office. 

Now she handed the paper to Tommy who looked at her with a mixed air of skepticism and intrigue. When his eyes landed on the paper, though, the air was replaced with shock, followed closely by disappointment.

Tommy recognized the hand, had seen it in the pubs ledger many times. It was Micky’s. And in the bar manager’s scrawl was written a name that was also familiar: J. McCavern. 

Sophie recognized the disappointment on Tommy’s face. She knew he’d wanted to trust Micky, would hate what inevitably came next. But she also needed him to understand the severity of the situation. In his focus on those closest to him, Tommy had neglected to see what was right under his nose. Anyone in the entire organization could be the black cat. Anyone.

“Tommy, you can’t trust anyone,” Sophie warned now in a whisper. 

Tommy just nodded, his eyes still fixed on the paper in his hands.

“From Betty to Michael, no one can be above suspicion.”

“I know,” Tommy retorted, sinking in his chair and tossing his glasses onto the table. Tommy was exhausted.

“That includes Jesse,” Sophie added, almost choking on the name.

“Ms. Eden is no longer a threat.”

“What do you mean?”

Tommy stood and moved slowly around his desk, stopping only mere inches from her. 

“Ms. Eden and I are finished.”

Sophie’s eyes shot up to meet Tommy’s. She felt her pulse quicken. Jesse had been what stood between her and Tommy since she returned. At least, that’s what she’d told herself. In truth, she’d been so afraid to pursue it, so afraid it had all changed, that she relied upon the Jesse situation as a shield protecting her from her own heart, from what she really wanted. 

But now that was gone. And she stood in front of Tommy caught completely off guard and completely vulnerable.

And reading her so well, as he always had, Tommy took that as his cue.

He quickly closed the space between them, wrapping one arm around her waist and snaking his other hand in her hair. Tommy pulled her impossibly close as his lips crashed against hers. She felt the warmth of his body, tasted the whiskey on his breath, smelled the smoke on his coat. It was Tommy. Her Tommy. 

And for the first time since being back in Birmingham, she stopped fighting.


	9. Chapter 9

Sophie looked through the scope surveying the stage. Everything was exactly as Tommy said it would be. The podium was set slightly off center, the banner hung directly behind it, and a small piece of tape marked the floor where Tommy would stand. He’d even described the decor to the finest detail, sketching out on a small piece of paper where each fern would be placed by the stage. Sophie hadn’t understood why he bothered with such details, but she enjoyed being close with him again and chose to just let him go on so she could watch the way his mouth moved when he spoke. 

She was physically ready, wiping the sweat from her palms and rolling her head to loosen the tension in her neck. She checked the pocket watch Tommy had slipped her. She had fifteen minutes. 

It was mental readiness she lacked. Sure, she’d been in situations like this before, and she’d always handled them with more grace and aplomb than anyone would have imagined she would, but this was different. It wasn’t just her safety that balanced precariously on her shoulders It was Tommy’s as well.

Her mind flashed back to that morning two years before, the morning that everything had changed. The moment that Robert pulled the trigger still haunted her. She remembered the sensation in her fingertips. The click of the gun as she realized it’d jammed. The ringing in her ears as she fell to the floor beside Tommy. She remembered how bright red his blood was as it wet his shirt.

The fifteen minutes she waited for him to enter the arena were the longest she could remember. But when he finally entered, even the roaring crowd couldn’t drown out the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Each beat was both heard and felt as she watched him approach the stage and take his place. 

It was the first time she’d seen him since leaving his office that morning, but she hadn’t stopped thinking of him. 

_ He’d been able to move without waking her, reaching for his coat and removing his cigarette case and lighter. It wasn’t until he lit the cigarette that she woke, hearing the lighter strike and the slow burn of the paper.  _

_ She smiled before ever opening her eyes, remembering at that instant exactly where she had fallen asleep. _

_ She felt him beneath her. The skin of her cheek pressed against the skin of his chest. She felt him breathing, the deep breaths he took as he inhaled his cigarette. She smelled the warmth of him, even though the room was cold.  _

_ “Good morning,” she said quietly, raising her head to look into his steely blue eyes. _

_ Tommy stared back, looking deep into hers, and Sophie realized how much she’d missed that look. She’d missed those eyes. The smile behind them that he’d kept hidden from so many people. _

_ He said nothing, but gently rubbed her lips with the pad of his thumb. And that gesture said all she needed to hear.  _

_ “We’ve wasted so much time,” she said.  _

_ “No more,” Tommy responded. “That’s enough. One more day. One more job.” _

_ Sophie chucked. “And then what? We rest? It’s over? You and I both know that’s not true.” _

_ Tommy sat up, pushing Sophie with him to sit on the sofa. He wrapped the small blanket they’d slept under around her shoulders and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm her. His cigarette hung languidly from his lips as he spoke. _

_ “No,” he said. “I suppose not.” _

_ Sophie looked down at her hands. Too many thoughts flooded her mind at once. What had been, what was now, what could come. It overwhelmed her, almost pushing her to the brink of tears. But she finally had him back. She was finally there, really with him, and she wouldn't be scared away. _

_ “But we can stop wasting time. I never stopped thinking about you--.” _

_ “Nor I,” she interrupted, before leaning in for another kiss. _

They had finally made their way back to one another and now they were risking it all. 

Sophie returned the watch to her pocket and fished out the small, metal capsule. It was strange that something so small could signify so much. She found herself wondering how quickly everything could change, to epic proportions. One tiny capsule could take him away, forever. Turning it over in her fingers, she thought about how close he’d been, how many times he’d resolved to end it. She couldn’t help but hope it was the thought of her that had stopped him every time. He carried the answer in his pocket, but he hadn’t been able to do it. She hoped he’d been holding on for her.

She felt a familiar lump rise in her throat and failed to stifle the scoff that came with it. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

She placed the capsule in her mouth and used her tongue to move it between her teeth and cheek on the side of her mouth. It tasted metallic--like blood--and she shook her head to rid herself again of the sight of his blood as it threatened to take over her mind’s eye once and for all.

Sophie steadied the gun and trained her sight down the scope.

She looked at Tommy first, confirming that he was in place. 

And as she turned slightly to move her sights toward Mosley, she saw the expression on Tommy’s face. It was a look she hadn’t seen in years, but it was instantly familiar. 

Fear.

And that’s when she heard a deafening bang behind her.

She knew immediately that the sting in her back was from a bullet. The pain flooded her mind and before she could turn to see her assailant, she’d been forced to the floor by a boot pressing against her wound.

Presence of mind, though, through the pain and fear, allowed her to move the capsule from its hiding place in her mouth--placing it between her teeth. If she’d been a god-fearing woman, she would have prayed. As it were, she thought of Tommy as she bit down. The bittersweet taste of almonds was the last thing she acknowledged before it all turned black.

* * *

“Where’s Sophie?” Tommy demanded as he paced the small dressing room under the arena.

It was just he and Arthur, who was covered in blood from fighting for his life.

He wasn’t sure where it’d all gone wrong, but he knew it had. And now he was properly fucked.

“She’s gone,” Arthur answered, running a hand through his hair. He knew his brother was already fragile. Learning that Sophie hadn’t made it out safely was likely to push him over the edge. But he couldn't think of any other way to say it than to just come right out with the truth. 

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“They’ve taken her.”

Tommy tried to storm past him, grasping for the door as Arthur caught him by the shoulders and fought to steady him. He turned Tommy to face him. He needed him calm if they were ever going to find her. 

“Tom, we don’t even know who they are?”

Tommy fought back, pushing his brother away as he also pushed down the tears that threatened to spill forth. 

“Is she alive?” He finally asked, looking his brother in the eye--imploring, begging him to give an affirmative answer. 

“There’s a lot of blood," Arthur said with a deep sigh. "I don't know, brother."

He tried to push past Arthur again.  _ A lot of blood. _

But his brother was able to stop him, forcing him into a hug until he calmed again. 

“Who? Who knew, Tom?” He asked.

“It doesn't make sense,” Tommy said quietly, wracking his brain for where it’d gone wrong. “Doesn't make fucking sense.”

Tommy paced the floor rubbing his hands over his face. He knew the problem with determining what happened was the overwhelming number of suspects. He'd found himself with more enemies than he'd ever faced at once. And he was certain they all knew about Sophie, about their past. 

_ But who knew about the plans at the rally?  _

“Who?” he asked, as he felt his chest tighten. “Who?” He kicked the chair by the dressing table. “Who?!” His voice rose in a frenzy. “The Chinese, the Italians the Branch, Intelligence, McCavern, Mosley?!” He shouted. “Mosley knew nothing! He knew nothing!”

He sat in the chair Arthur propped back up and hung his head in his hands.

“WHO?!” he screamed, frantic now. The word reverberated in his mind.

Who. Who. Who.

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to find himself standing in the driveway outside Arrow House. 

“You're fucking scaring me,” Arthur said. 

But his voice sounded like a distant echo, and Tommy wouldn't let it settle in his mind.

“What are you doing? Talk to me.”

“Maybe I've found him, Arthur. The man I can't defeat,” Tommy said, turning to look at the field beside the house.

“Mosley?”

“I don't fucking know. Doesn't make sense,” he said, eyes still trained on the field. It was covered by a thick cloud of fog, but he could sense something there. And whatever it was demanded his attention.

“Let's… let's go inside,” Arthur said unsteadily. “We'll work it out. Have a drink.”

But it kept calling for him. 

Sophie.

“I need to walk,” Tommy said, not once looking at his brother--just walking determinedly toward the field.

* * *

The fog was thick and Tommy could barely see in front of him. But the sound of his own breathing and the dirt crunching beneath his feet sent him forward without direction. 

“Tommy.”

He heard Sophie’s voice and spun around to find her. But he couldn’t see her through the fog.

“Soph?” He yelled. 

She heard him again, but this time from a different direction. 

Over and over she said his name as he spun around in the mud, hoping desperately that he’d find her, but knowing that he wouldn’t. 

He couldn’t do it anymore. He was tired. He was afraid. And he knew she was gone.

Tommy took the gun from his shoulder holster and pressed it to his temple.

He screamed.

* * *

Sophie woke suddenly and with a start. She looked about the room frantically for the gun she was certain she’d just heard fire. The room was empty and everything appeared to be peaceful. 

Perhaps it was another dream.

The room was just as stark, just as clean, as it had been when they wheeled her in some hours before. She could hear the ticking of a clock, but couldn't find it on the walls and had no sense of time. _Had it been hours? Days?_

She lay back down and closed her eyes. All she could hope at this point was that Tommy would find her--that he’d made it out safely and would come for her as well.

The doctor had made it clear they wouldn't release her without someone there to care for her. 

"You're a risk to yourself," he said, holding up the shell of the capsule he'd pulled from her mouth. 

She closed her eyes, hoping to find sleep as lying awake had proven to be too difficult. The uncertainty wouldn't let her settle.

Just as she began to nod off, she heard his voice. 

It was Tommy.

“Sophie,” he said, as if trying to wake her. But her eyes were suddenly too heavy to open.

“Sophie, come with me, love. We can rest. It's over.”

Sophie let out a deep sigh and finally let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading along on this ride, folks.
> 
> Our poor Tommy. Our poor Sophie. 
> 
> It’s done for now, but I’m reluctant to say it’s done forever. I can’t wait to see where S6 takes us and may revisit these two when it’s here!


End file.
